Father's Day

It always amazes me how some memories are as clear as if they had just happened, yesterday. Do you have those times that you remember, when you can feel the feelings again, almost smell the smells and see the events unfold in front of you? I remember one particular Saturday afternoon. I suppose I was seven or eight years old. My mom and I had spent the day in the kitchen, and it was my first attempt at baking a pie from scratch. I had mixed the flour and shortening, rolled it carefully, and patted it into the dish. Mom and I washed and prepared the black raspberries for the filling and wove the perfect lattice top. Mom even showed me how to pinch the edges, so that they looked fancy and store-bought. When my dad came through the back door, I was delighted to tell him that I had baked him a pie, almost all by myself! I can remember, so clearly, him smiling at me in approval and saying, “All-right!” as he walked through the kitchen and upstairs to take a shower before dinner.

I was delighted and proud. Until I attempted to take the fresh-baked pie out of the oven.  *SPLAT!* …upside down on the oven door. Ruined. Suddenly, I wasn’t the proud little girl, cooking something for her daddy that she knew he would love. Now, I was just the clumsy little girl, who always ruined everything.

My dad, probably hearing the commotion in the kitchen, walked-in from the living room. He must have noticed I had tears welling in my eyes, but if he did, I didn’t know it. Without missing a beat, he grabbed forks out of the drawer, exclaiming, “This is great! This is the best way to keep pie warm after it’s done baking!” He grabbed the ice cream out of the freezer, and I watched in disbelief as he scooped it out onto the pie, all of it running all over the oven door. I looked at mom, eyes wide, but she wasn’t upset about the mess, either. Instead, she was calling my brother to come eat dessert, though we hadn’t even had dinner, yet. I was dumbfounded.

We all sat cross-legged on the kitchen floor, the oven door as our table, and ate warm pie a la mode until we were full. I suppose it was a major effort to clean the oven after the fact, but I don’t remember that part. What I remember is my dad, seemingly thrilled to eat pie and ice cream off of the oven door, as if it was what he had always wanted to do; my mom, looking at my dad with pure love just before she called my brother to the kitchen; and my brother and I, feeling like we were getting away with something, eating sweets without having first finished our vegetables. What a night!

People ask me, often, “How do you stay so positive?” That question has been the catalyst for this blog, my book, and the whole of the “Living in Joy,” project I’ve started, in an attempt to investigate and articulate some kind of answer. Most of the time, I attribute my joyful disposition to my decision, consciously made, to cling (if sometimes only by my fingernails) to optimism. On this day, Father’s Day, however, I would like to also celebrate the fact that my ability to find the best part of any situation was taught to me. My father had the miraculous and gracious ability to instantly see the opportunity in situations that others would consider difficult, if not disasterous.

Yes, I have to make my own conscious decision to look for the good, but once I make that decision, I have the tools and skills to find it. And I learned them from my father.

Thank you, Dad. I miss you.

Venting

I love a good girls’ night out. We laugh, we eat good food, and many times, we “vent,” which is really just a nice word for complaining. Venting is distinguished from talking through problems with your friends or spouse in an effort to find solutions. Venting is what we do when we lament, “I just wanted him/her to listen! I hate when he/she tries to solve my problem. I was just venting. “  

Being a habitual “venter,” myself, I have recently started to wonder about the effectiveness of this practice. It seems like, if it were a productive habit, we wouldn’t have to vent the same information over and over. Instead, as the venting continues, day after day, so does discomfort seem to increase instead of decreasing, at least in myself, as bad behavior is recalled and rehashed, long after whatever situation caused the venting is over. Is there a better solution for getting through various frustrating situations than the coveted venting?

The answer just might be found in neuroscience and the study of hormones. I recently read the results of an experiment conducted by Dr. Paul Zak. In the experiment, oxytocin (the “niceness” hormone, the hormone responsible for bonding between mothers and babies, in particular) levels were measured. Not only were oxytocin levels increased in subjects who experienced the kindness of others (generosity, in the case of the experiment), but also increased when the subject was nice to someone else. In other words, if you are nice to someone, not only does that make someone else feel good, it makes you feel good, too!

I don’t think this is earth-shaking news. What I want to point out, however, is what that information means to our daily effort to stay connected to our joy. It turns out that, “If you can’t say something nice, don’t say anything at all,” is not just your mother’s admonition to be polite. Brain chemistry research seems to show that it may be a key to living in joy. Similar to how complaining turns our focus to the least desirable traits of our friends and family, saying something nice starts a domino effect of its own: say something nice (oxytocin released in the speaker), feel nice (more oxytocin released in the speaker and the listener), speaker and listener are more likely to do something nice(oxytocin released in the speaker, the listener and  the recipient of nice behavior)… and so it goes, until our own brain chemistry is altered, and we are now wired to feel good. In addition, as oxytocin is the “bonding hormone,” we are indirectly renewing the bond between ourselves and those of whom, and to whom, we speak.

It should be noted that “venting,” even without active problem solving, also releases oxytocin in the person complaining, just like saying something nice does (which is probably why we’ve adopted the habit in the first place).  It does not, however, release oxytocin in the listener. Given the choice, why not have discussions that offer the greatest benefit for all concerned? Do yourself, your friends, and the people about whom you speak a favor… Unless you really are looking for productive solutions to a specific problem, say something nice, or don’t say anything at all. 

Living in Joy Challenge: Obviously, the challenge for this week is to speak only well of others and of situations. Also in spire this in others. Start the next “break room” discussion by asking, “What nice thing happened to you, this week?” or “What do you most respect about your spouse?” After a week of this, chemically speaking, you will be different.  I can’t wait to hear about the change. J

My Whole-Life Crisis

The medterms.com definition of mid-life crisis reads: “A period of emotional turmoil… accompanied by a desire for change… brought on by fears and anxieties about growing older.”

Really? Is this something exclusive to mid-life? Do you remember junior high and high school? I remember thinking that something must have been wrong with me, because I never felt settled, or like I fit-in, or like I was as put-together as all of the teens around me appeared to be. In retrospect, I know that every one of us was trying to learn how to become who we wanted to be, as afraid as we were desirous of growing older.  

As an adult in my “middle age,” I don't think this has changed, much. Sometimes, I feel like I still don’t have it quite figured out. I should be more accomplished in my career, or have less debt, or more family. I should have done something, or not done other things. I’m not sure it’s much different than the feelings I had when I was a teen, so I also get discouraged, thinking that I should have resolved this question of, “who am I and what am I supposed to do with my life” sometime before now. This time, though, my age helps me. I have the experience and awareness to be able to look around and realize that I’m not an oddity. In fact, many of my friends, married or not married, with or without children, those with enviable careers and those who live with financial pictures that are bleak at best, express some of the same questions I entertain. It seems that regardless of what we are, have or do, we still long for more.

When I was a teenager, I thought there would come a time when I didn’t long for anything, anymore. A time would come when I would be content, satisfied, and proud of my own achievements. Now that I realize the longing hasn’t subsided, I’m tempted to be discouraged, or to completely change direction in search of some better life plan, except that I know by looking around me and talking to my peers, there are opposite directions and different life plans, but there are no better life plans. We are all left wanting more. Teen or adult, I continue to be in crisis, to want more, to continue longing, to desire change and fear growing older.

I don’t think that’s a bad thing. I think the discontent we feel throughout every stage of our lives is our catalyst to grow, learn and experience more of life than complacency allows. As human beings, I believe we were built to stretch the boundaries of our lives, break the barriers of fear that slow our progress, and celebrate our victories while simultaneously looking for new races to run. The feeling that we still “aren’t quite there, yet” is a result of still being alive, rather than a symptom of failure. Call it teen-angst, or a mid-life crisis, or elderly despair, the result is the same: the growing pains spur us on to become who we have all our lives wanted to be.

As long as I am living, I will want to learn, be, and experience more. In that way, I shall always be in crisis… not entirely content, not entirely accomplished. And I can find joy in that.

Living In Joy Challenge: Take a look at some of the things in your life that make you least content. How have you been handling them? Can you see any of your own growth? Are you able to see how these situations are helping you to discover yourself? The patience in you, or your capacity for forgiveness, for example? Let me know how you’re doing with your whole-life crisis… and I’ll keep writing about mine. J

In the Negative

As some of you know, I used to teach math. I remember how difficult it was to teach students how to add and subtract negative numbers. Ultimately, I think the problem is that negative numbers are not an intuitive concept. (If there is already nothing, how can you take something away?) Yet, so many of us do that very thing in so many aspects of our lives, everyday! If we don’t go above and beyond, if we don’t “give until it hurts,” we do not feel as though we are good friends, spouses, or workers.

Today, I want to give you permission to give only as much as you can give without suffering a loss.

It seems fairly simple, doesn’t it? If you have ten dollars, for example, you can give a family member ten dollars, but you can’t give eleven. If you have two extra hours in your day, you can spend those two helping the church, but you cannot give three. This is not difficult math. It is, however, difficult execution. Adopting the new credo requires several things.

First, it requires that you become very clear about your own assets. How much time do you have that is, as of yet, unclaimed by obligations? How much money is “extra” this week? How much emotional energy do you have, today? Do you choose to spend your emotional assets listening to your girlfriend rehash the same complaints and conversations she’s had for the past year?

Once you’ve defined your assets for the day, you will have to learn to say, “No.” “No, I simply do not have that in my budget.” “No, I can only be here for one hour, not four.” “Yes, I understand that is difficult for you, but we’ve discussed this, before. I only have the energy today to talk about what you would like to do about it?”

One of the most difficult aspects of adopting this new credo is that it requires some of us to adopt a new self-concept. We don't want to appear selfish, or as if we are not putting in our fair share of effort. However, the fact is that we are not as productive as we think we are when we're trying to cram too much into one day. Friendship and love do not require spending ourselves until we are emotionally bankrupt and exhausted. Friends, church, family, work, will all take as much as we will give them. They all rely on us to set your own limits and boundaries. It is not up to them to police those boundaries for us. They do not take advantage of our good nature. We take advantage of ourselves.

In the end, giving until it hurts only hurts. It does not create more productive giving. More productive giving comes from being centered enough, calm enough, and asset rich enough to give with an open, unrushed heart. Be protective of your assets, and manage them with care.    

 Mother Teresa said, “It is not how much we give, but how much love we put in the giving.” And I ask you, how much love can you really put in, if you are giving from less than zero?

Living in Joy Challenge: This week, even if you are not ready to say, “No,” or set new boundaries, at least begin your daily inventory. Today, do you need to find, earn or renew something, before you can give to someone else? Start to identify where and when you are tempted to give something you do not have. And, by all means, start to respect the people in your life who are good at setting boundaries. Ask them how they do it. As always, I’d love to hear what challenges this presents for you. J

Confessions of Carelessness

During my recent move, I discovered a stash of unmarked, recordable CD’s. Of the four, three had nothing on them at all. The fourth had twenty songs on it. What fun! It’s like finding a roll of film (back when “on film” was how we took pictures) and wondering which slice of life they would have captured. I couldn’t wait to hear this CD and think, “Oh! I remember that! I remember making that, and what I was thinking, and where I was.” I put the CD in my player and went about my daily chores, glad to reminisce.

But the first song was one I couldn’t remember ever hearing. The second song was only vaguely familiar. As it turned out, most of the songs were completely foreign to me, and I had definitely never heard them in this order, on this CD. Somewhere after the fourth song, I realized: I hadn’t burned these songs to a CD, myself. Someone made this CD for me. And whenever that had happened, I had never listened to it.

Sometimes I am struck by how careless we are with each other. This was one of those times. After all, someone who must have known how much I love music was sharing something with me. Someone had intentionally selected songs he thought I might like and compiled them onto a CD, and I never even bothered to listen to it. Not only do I not remember the songs, I don’t remember who gave them to me.

I have been through heartbreak. I have gone through the all the phases: the self pity, “Will I ever be loved?" The anger, “He’s an idiot! [Forget] him!” The resolution, “I learned, I loved, and I’m better for it.” I wonder, now, if the person who gave me this CD thought he loved me. I wonder if he went through those stages. Clearly, I was so clueless or wrapped-up in myself at the time that I hadn’t noticed. Ugh.

And, at this moment, all of the people who have ever broken my heart are forgiven. I understand. We don’t mean to be careless with each other, any more than I meant to be careless with the CD giver. But how many times has someone else’s carelessness taken our joy? In fact, there are those of us who make entire life decisions based on our experience of someone else’s carelessness: “[Whatever] happened, and now I’ll never love that deeply, or care that easily, or trust someone that completely…”

What if, right now, we think about those who have been careless with our hearts and we forgive them?  What if we acknowledge that people are not intentionally cruel and that wherever they were in their world when we met them, however unavailable or unkind they appeared, whatever circumstance intervened and made it look as though our feelings did not matter, had nothing to do with us? Would acknowledging that simple fact make it easier for us to actually live our lives to the fullest?  

I think so.

To the CD giver: I’m sorry I was careless with you. The music is wonderful. Thank you.

Living in Joy Challenge: (The toughest one, yet…) Think of the person for whom you harbor the most anger, the most resentment, the most disappointment. Realize that you were not their target. You were not tricked or singled out for torture. This person, for that time, for whatever reason, was careless. Call them careless. Acknowledge their foolishness for not seeing you as wonderful. But recognize that this was not as much an integral part of your journey as it was part of theirs…and  forgive them.

Happy Mother's Day

Happy Mother’s Day

… for only a Mother’s love is sufficient to change little girls into princesses.

This is the photo and caption I have on my bathroom wall, where I get ready to face my day every morning.  It’s a Polaroid snapshot from Christmas 1970, and reminds me of a time when my mother sewed my clothes. As you can see by this photo, for holidays she would make our outfits to match. Mine was slightly different, made for a little girl instead of fitted for a woman, but I felt beautiful, and special, and grown-up, like mommy.

Now, when I look at that photo of my mom in her early 20’s, so pretty, gracious and loving, I am reminded that I come from her. I am, in so many ways, still dressed like her. I share her attitudes, her outlook, her manner of speaking. I learned what I know of loving, of working hard, and of being a lady from watching her. I grew to trust myself, others and this world, because I could trust her.

On this Mother’s Day, I want to celebrate all of the mothers, like mine, who allow us to adopt their most positive attributes and wear them proudly. And though my version of what I wear:  my smile, my disposition, my kindness… may vary slightly from hers, I know that it has been only through her encouragement, her example and her willingness to teach me and continue learning, that I have been able to truly enjoy the riches of this life and to feel utterly spoiled by its offerings… like a princess.

Happy Mother’s Day! To mothers, daughters and sons who will celebrate this relationship, today.

Living In Joy Challenge: I know that some of you are not able to talk to or visit with your mother, right now. Celebrate, anyway. Celebrate what she taught you of loving yourself and this life. Celebrate the best she ever gave you by example or deed. Take one day to remember your own remarkable qualities and recognize the part she played in helping you become yourself. Enjoy! J

The Kindness of Strangers

To me, birthday anniversaries are the one day a year that we make a point to say, “Wow! I’m glad you were born. You, individually, are valuable to me and the people who know you.” It’s a time to celebrate the prior accomplishments of a person and reflect on where they have been. It’s a day to revel in the possibilities that will present themselves in the coming year, and anticipate new loves and experiences.

Because of my absolute reverence for birthdays, when a friend of mine was nearing his next birthday, I considered very diligently what I might do in order to help him celebrate. I decided that, since birthdays are a time to celebrate the heritage and history of a man, he might like a book of pictures from the town in Italy that shares his surname. I would help him celebrate his own birthday by celebrating the birthplace of his ancestors.

My problem: I had never been to Italy. Where would I find the photos to create this picture book?

My solution: a websearch that took me to the site of an amateur photographer named Michael Dogan. I could not tell which of his photos were of the little town I needed, but I loved his pictures. He captured people, expressions, and feelings. His landscapes were so well done, I could very nearly feel the sun from the photos warming my skin. (He’s really great. Check out www.michaeldogan.com). I emailed Michael and asked if I could purchase his photos. He declined on the humble basis that he was “an amateur”, but agreed kindly to let me use his photos for my little birthday project.

Take a minute to absorb that generosity. I was a willing buyer. Yet, he agreed to share his work, his art, his heart (as any artist will attest) with me for nothing. That would have been enough to renew my faith in the kindness of strangers. Imagine my complete elation and disbelief when he sent another  email with the following information: he had very few pictures of this small town, and was unsure exactly which pictures they were. Therefore, he and his wife would plan a trip from Rome, where he lives, to this town. They would go that very weekend, so that I would have time to get my project together. And he would take pictures with my project in mind and make them available to me.

Now, he was going more than a step further to be kind to a complete stranger, half a world away. He and his wife were giving their time, their talent, and their vacation fund to remove my stumbling block. Wow. If you ever doubt that people are basically good, think of this story. If you ever wonder if the human spirit is capable of generosity in this day and age, remember Michael and his wife. If you ever feel alone and defeated before you even begin, imagine that there is someone, somewhere, who will help you when you least expect it and set about finding that someone.

I wonder, often, if I make that kind of impact. Do I, can I, help someone completely renew their faith in people and the richness of life and the human experience? One thing is certain: I can be better about going one step further.


Living in Joy Challenge: Do something unexpected for someone else. Buy the coffee for the person in line behind you. Offer someone your umbrella. Anonymously pay someone’s electric bill. Restore someone’s faith in strangers. Who knows… Maybe someone in another country is blogging about your kindness, today. J